


Busybodies and Blushing Bisexuals

by KitsJay



Category: Common Law
Genre: Humor, M/M, kinkmeme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-03 01:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitsJay/pseuds/KitsJay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wes is bisexual and open to dating. Travis feels it is his Duty as Wes's cop partner to vet each dating prospect. Yeah, this is going to end well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While not truly non-con, there is a scene in the last one that has serious overtones of intent, so please be cautious if this is something that might upset you.

It wasn't exactly a secret, not really. I mean, Wes knew, and he just figured everyone else would figure it out - so when he said, "That's it, I'm giving up on women!" one night when he was, and he'll stress this so that everyone involved understands, _very drunk_ , and Travis asked him if he was going to be a monk, and he slurred out that he was sticking to men from now on... well, it wasn't an invitation, okay? It was just a statement.

And right now, he would give anything to have the Travis with the stupidly surprised look on his face than this new one, who apparently decided that it was his Duty as a Cop Partner to vet every prospect he came across.

Every. Single. One.


	2. Online Dating

Jack was a little taller than Wes, with startlingly white teeth and dark eyes that lit up a little when he laughed. He maybe wasn't quite as impressive looking as his obviously-touched-up-a-little online profile picture had led Wes to believe, but he wasn't shallow or anything, and the guy had a nice laugh. One of those deep, rolling ones that dragged everyone along with it.

He was in the middle of one of those laughs when Wes took a drink of his wine and promptly choked on it when he caught sight of Travis standing outside the window of the restaurant, waving frantically.

"You okay?" Jack leaned forward, putting a hand on Wes's arm. Travis glared at it, then gestured again wildly. Wes looked around frantically, but no one else had noticed yet.

"Yeah," he coughed. "Fine. Just... went down the wrong pipe. Will you excuse me for a second?"

"Uh, sure," Jack said, frowning.

Wes threw his napkin down on the table and stalked to the entrance, coming face to face with Travis, who had finally stopped his interpretative dancing.

"I can't believe you went out with that guy!" said Travis before Wes could even draw a breath and ask him what the hell he was doing there. "Do you know how dangerous that is? You met him on the internet! He could be another killer or something!"

"Travis," Wes ground out. "I am going to give you ten seconds to remember that I am a cop, that I carry a gun, and also that I'm not stupid. I ran a background check on him. He's clean. No homicidal tendencies in sight, other than my own regarding you."

Travis looked wounded. "Clean? He is so not clean. The man hasn't paid his parking tickets in five years!"

"That's it? That's what you've got? Parking tickets?" Wes said.

Travis had a disconcerting habit of wadding up papers and shoving them in his pockets, making Wes wince whenever he pulled out important documents mixed in with crumpled receipts, lint, and bubblegum wrappers, and he did just that now. "May 2005, overdue parking ticket. July 2005, speeding ticket," Travis listed. He paused and looked up with an earnest expression. "Guy's no good. You _always_ go the speed limit. He's reckless!"

"Travis - " Wes said dangerously.

"Is there a problem?" Jack's voice came from behind, and Wes whirled around to find him standing there, looking bemused and maybe a little hurt.

"No, no problem, I was just talking to my - "

"Partner," Travis finished. "We've been together for five years."

"I thought -" Jack held up his hands. "Listen, you're a nice guy, but I don't go out with married guys, man."

"What?" Wes said. "No, we're not - "

"That's right," Travis said, and was he _lisping_? Wes was going to have a serious talk with him about offensive stereotypes as soon as he sorted this out. "So just walk away while me and my man have a talk."

"I paid for dinner," Jack said, and he wasn't shouting, but he was close. "Don't contact me again."

"I didn't - listen, you've got the wrong - " Wes tried, but Travis dragged his arm and pulled him back.

"He was all wrong for you," Travis said sadly, shaking his head. "It was really for the best."


	3. Blind Date

It had started innocently enough. There was this conversation about secrets in therapy, then Travis had opened his big mouth, and everyone started looking at Wes in a new light, and he kept pointing out that there was a difference between privacy and secrets, and somewhere along the way, Dakota mentioned that she had an old college roommate who had a cousin who had a friend who was gay, and honestly, he wasn't sure how he ended up sitting with his arms crossed, legs tucked behind the chair legs, staring at the floor while Travis leaned forward and interrogated Dakota, who was looking a little sorry she mentioned it in the first place.

"Does this guy have a job?"

"Yes, he's an... architect, I think? Or a nurse."

"How do you not know? Does he change jobs often? Can't hold one down?" Travis leaned forward and asked grimly, "Does he drink?"

"What, no! I mean, at parties, sure, but - "

"Does he go to parties a lot? Goes to the club, goes on the prowl?"

"Travis," Wes said warningly, and was surprised to see Dr. Ryan hiding a smile behind her notepad. He gave her a look that said, 'I saw that' and she raised an eyebrow that said, 'Saw what?' and he quirked his head in a way that said, 'That, that thing you did. Not very professional, was it?' and she smiled in a way that said, 'I have no idea what you're talking about.'

Or maybe she was just wondering who was closer to losing it completely - Travis, who apparently had decided that he didn't have enough brothers and had to make Wes his new baby brother, or Wes, who could feel his cheeks burning as he listened to the grilling continue. Poor Dakota was looking a little trapped. If she had been an actual suspect, Wes mused, she would have cracked by now. Been sobbing into the table, giving them names, and begging for mercy.

"Does he do drugs?"

"Travis, that's enough," Wes snapped. "I don't see how it's any business of yours."

Travis looked wounded, like a puppy dog whose owner had spanked it on the nose. "What? I'm just looking out for you. This guy sounds all kinds of bad."

"She doesn't even know him!" Wes said exasperatedly.

"You do seem very invested, Travis," Dr. Ryan pointed out. "Any idea why that is?"

"That's the job," Travis said seriously. "I have to look out for him."

He was so going to have to apologize to Dakota, and he _hated_ apologizing.

Dammit.


	4. The Not-Work Date

He wasn't really breaking his rule about dating in the workplace. The new tech was on loan from another department, something about "liaison" and "be nice" and "they won't send anymore female techs, _Travis_ " from the captain. He wasn't really Wes's type, a little bit scrawny and a little bit nerdy, but he was kind of cute when he shoved up his glasses and waved his hands while telling them about the cool hacker gear they had found at the latest break-in, and Travis hated him, which was always a plus.

So when Luke looked up at him and bashfully hemmed and hawed something about going out for coffee, Wes was surprised to find himself agreeing.

He was even more surprised when he found out the guy was into internet security laws and they talked about precedent and how new technology was outpacing legal rulings, and Wes found himself really surprised that he enjoyed it. So much so that he agreed to go out for dinner next Wednesday night.

"Are you dating that guy?" Travis asked, and Wes looked up, a mild look of irritation on his face.

"That's not really any of your business, is it?"

"What about that whole 'no dating coworkers'?" Travis said accusingly.

"A, he doesn't really work here," Wes counted off on his fingers, "And B, some people are capable of having a mature relationship where if one of the parties breaks it off, no one's favorite plant gets torched in a parking lot in front of their trailer."

"That happened _once_ ," Travis grumbled, but he didn't ask any more questions after that, so Wes - like an idiot - thought that was the end of it.

He should have known better.

Two weeks later, Luke was looking harried and jittery, and when Wes waved him down to ask him something, he ran off like one of Travis's ex-girlfriends was behind him.

Three weeks later, Captain hauled them into his office and stared at them over steepled fingers.

"Yes, sir?" Travis asked dutifully.

"Luke Logan quit."

"That's a shame," Travis said, shaking his head mournfully. "Some guys just can't cut it."

"Can't cut _what_?" Wes asked. "He did technology forensics! What could he possibly have seen that caused him to _quit_?"

"Less seen and more heard," Captain said dryly.

Travis had an angelic expression on his face.

"What did you do?" Wes growled.

"He made him cry," Captain chimed in helpfully.

"Travis!"

Travis waved his hands defensively. "Is it my fault the guy couldn't take a joke?"

"You told him that if anything happened to Wes, even so much as a paper-cut, you would," Captain shuffled some papers and pulled one out ostentatiously, and Wes got the feeling it was more for their benefit than his own, "and I quote, 'rip out his spleen and make him eat it while videotaping the contents of his intestines and uploading it on youtube.' "

"See? A joke!"

Wes buried his face in his hands. "May I go?"

"Please do. Both of you," Captain said.


	5. The Meet-Cute

It wasn't that he hadn't heard of the internet, or even that he didn't use it - he checked weather.com every day before he went to work so he would know what to wear, thank you very much - it was just that he didn't understand where Travis dug up these sites that apparently dominated all of his admittedly already short attention span and implanted a burning need to show Wes all of them.

"See, it's called TVTropes, and it's got - "

"I don't care," Wes said for the - he checked his notepad - sixteenth time. He added another tally to the row.

"But it's really cool, and man, I spent all night on it, they should come with a warning," Travis babbled on.

"Still don't care. Also, is that why you're so jumpy?"

Travis looked down where his leg was shaking up and down like it was hooked up to electricity, a look of almost comical surprise on his face. "Huh." He shrugged and took another swig of his coffee. "I needed something to keep me awake, so I've been drinking coffee like, all night, man."

"I know," Wes said with a pointed look as he picked up one of the styrofoam cups and deposited in neatly in the trash.

"But they have this one, right, and it's called Meet Cute - "

"I don't care," Wes said again, taking a second to add another tally. Seventeen. "And for good measure, in case you didn't hear me because you were too busy listening to the buzzing in your ears: I. Don't. Care."

Eighteen.

"Man, I'm out," Travis grimaced as he drank the last dregs of the coffee down. "Can you run and get me some more?"

"What? You've had like seven cups. I'm cutting you off."

"There's some in the breakroom, what are you going to do, stop me?" Travis pointed out.

"If it's in the break room, why do you need me to go get it?"

"Because the break room coffee sucks," Travis said reasonably. Wes blinked and opened his mouth to point out the flaw in that logic when Travis gave him a slightly manic grin. "Besides, it's either that or I steal your car keys and get it myself."

Wes stared at him evenly. Travis blinked back innocently.

"You're bluffing," he said finally.

"Try me," Travis grinned.

"Fine. But that's it. The last one." Wes grabbed his car keys and his coat and headed to the coffee shop around the corner, the one with the barista who gave him extra whipped cream even when he didn't ask and sprinkled cinnamon on _everything_. He was just out to the car, juggling two large cups of coffee - he needed caffeine if he was going to be able to deal with a hyperactive partner all day - when he realized the car was running.

With the keys inside.

"No, no, no," he said frantically, leaning one of the cups between his hip and the side of the car. He grabbed at the handle, utterly unsurprised to find it was locked. It just kind of figured.

The sky let out an ominous roll of thunder, and he stared up at the dark clouds with a mulish expression.

"Really?" he said aloud.

"Problem?" a man's amused voice said, and Wes turned to see a man wearing a messy t-shirt and jeans standing nearby, smoking a cigarette.

"No," Wes said immediately. He amended it, "Kind of."

The man ground out the cigarette beneath the toe of his boot and ambled over, immediately diagnosing the problem. He chuckled lowly. "Can't say that I've never done it myself," he said genially. "But only because I don't want to make you feel worse than you probably already do."

"That's littering," Wes said stupidly, still staring at the cigarette.

The man just looked amused. "I'll tell you what. I get this open for you, you don't report me, what do you say?"

"As long as you don't break the window," Wes said, and the man leaned a little closer than was strictly necessary.

"Promise," he said, and whoa, his eyes were _really_ blue. Wes found himself staring into them before coughing a little and taking a step back.

"Uh - "

The guy grinned and opened the door to his truck, pulling out a wire hanger and a tennis ball.

"That's not going to work," Wes pointed out. "I didn't leave a window cracked. Listen, just let me call a tow - "

"Have a little faith," the man said. He tossed the hanger back inside, then pulled out a knife and cut the tennis ball neatly in half. "I'm Paul, by the way."

"Wes," Wes said dumbly.

Paul winked at him, then put the mangled tennis ball half neatly over the lock, pushed it in, and watched with a satisfied look as the inside lock popped up.

"That _worked_?" Wes said, aghast. "This car was supposed to have state-of-the-art security systems!"

"Can't beat physics," Paul shrugged. He held the door open, but not before leaning in close enough for Wes to get a whiff of his cologne. Something musky, but not overwhelming. Much better than that gasoline Travis dunked himself in whenever he was sniffing around a new recruit, that's for sure.

"So it looks like you owe me," Paul said with a sly grin. "Say dinner?"

"That - " Wes nearly pointed out that he technically already said he'd overlook the cigarette before his libido choked off the stupider parts of his brain. "That would be great."

"Awesome," Paul breathed out. "Though I would have accepted a kiss for the knight in shining armor."

"I'm not exactly a damsel in distress," Wes said wryly, pulling his coat back to show his badge.

"A cop?" Paul sounded impressed. "You carry handcuffs? Because I think we can rewrite the whole Sleeping Beauty story if this goes well."

Wes was about to reply when he heard the absolute last voice he wanted to hear. He was _flirting_ , dammit, and apparently well! The last time he flirted was when he nervously asked Alex for a drink at a party and held her hair back as she threw up in one of the frat party stalls. He had walked her home and babbled about law while she did her best to walk in a straight line - it didn't exactly take scintillating conversation on his part, so he was a little out of practice.

And naturally, that's when Travis would walk, or more accurately, _bounce_ up, looking like a boxer dancing around the ring before a punch.

"Hey! Where were you? I thought you had gotten lost or something," Travis said. He stopped short when he saw Paul before continuing, "Or the Big Bad Wolf gobbled you up."

"Wrong fairy tale," Wes managed, even though Travis would have no idea what he was talking about. He turned to Paul. "You should go."

Paul frowned. "What? Listen, I didn't mean to come on so strong, you just - "

"No, you came on just right, but my partner is crazy and if you stick around, he's going to haul you in for fingerprinting or something."

Paul grinned. "I don't think he'll find anything."

Travis stalked up with a thunderous expression, brandishing a cigarette butt, still slightly smoking, in his hand. "Littering, sir?" he said, tsking. "That's a ticketing offense."

Wes sighed and as he watched Travis berate the man for littering as he wrote him a ticket, then wrote him a few more for a broken taillight and expired registration, shook his head.

See ya, Prince Charming. Travis wasn't exactly the fairy godmother type.


	6. Pretty Much Everyone, Really

"Fine, I'm tired of this," Wes said, slamming his briefcase down on the desk. Travis looked up, looked at the briefcase, then looked back up at him.

"You'll crack your laptop that way," he said mildly.

"Travis, focus," Wes ground out. "Since clearly any guy I want to go out with has something horribly wrong with him, like he doesn't love kittens more than anything in the whole wide world or once stepped on a butterfly, then I'm going to go against my better instincts and let you pick one out."

He sat down in the chair, arms crossed and staring at Travis.

Travis grimaced. "What do I know about - "

"No. Better judgment, Travis, better judgment is gone. So you got yourself into this, you get yourself out."

"Fine," Travis said, doodling on his case report. "But help me out. Give me some names and I'll pick one."

Wes sighed. "The barista? Barry?"

"Too young," Travis shook his head. "And he has that weird thing for cinnamon."

"Okay, how about Gary?"

"CSU Gary or ballistics Gary?"

"Ballistics Gary is actually Jerry."

"So... CSU Gary?"

Wes made a 'get on with it' gesture, that may have, to the uninitiated observer, looked like he was flipping Travis off. It was an art.

Travis shook his head reluctantly. "Too weird. Who knows what kinky shit he's into?"

"Leon."

"The bartender? Have you seen his hair?"

Wes threw his hands up in exasperation. "Travis, who _are_ you going to approve? So far you've managed to find something wrong with everyone I've named. I'm running out of gay men to choose from and Travis, we live in _L.A._. That shouldn't ever happen!"

"Maybe you could go to San Francisco?" Travis joked, then held his hands up in a surrendering pose when Wes looked like he was going to leap over the table and throttle him.

"Fine, I'll... try to be better," Travis said, though he sounded like he had just bitten into the break room coffee. "Go. Date. Have fun."

" _Thank you_ ," Wes said coldly.


	7. And That Guy

"And he keeps _ruining_ every shot I have at finding a date," Wes moaned into his drink. The bartender nodded sympathetically and subtly nudged the shot away from him. Wes didn't notice. "I'm going to be alone forever. I'll die with Travis there, and he'll be telling me that the Grim Reaper isn't good enough for me, and that I shouldn't go out with him because he brings death to puppies."

"Maybe you shouldn't drink anymore," the bartender said doubtfully.

A man's warm voice stopped her from sliding the drink away again. "I got him, miss," he said with a bright smile. He turned his body to Wes, leaning one hip casually against the counter. "You were saying?"

"He's like the psycho ex in Lifetime movies, but without the ex part. Because we've never dated, because he's straight," Wes continued, oblivious to the change in audience. He looked up through blurry vision. "I'm not bad looking, am I?"

"No, that's not how I would describe you at all," the man said with a smirk.

"Good! I mean, just, most people's baggage is like, suitcases, and mine is 6' of overprotective... he's like check-in, not carry-on." Wes paused, then frowned. "I'm kind of drunk."

"Just a tad," the man agreed. "Let me get you another one. I'm Bill, by the way."

"Wes," Wes said, staring at the bottom of his glass. He wasn't sure when it stopped being covered in alcohol, but he was fairly sure that it was only recently. Bill slid another one in front of him.

"So crazy ex, huh?" Bill said sympathetically, and Wes nodded frantically.

"Yes! Well, no. I mean, I have an ex, but she's not crazy, but the not-ex-ex is. Apparently."

"To not-ex-exes, then," Bill said, nodding for Wes to take up his own drink in a toast.

"Wes!"

Wes's head met the bar with a resounding 'thud'. "No. No. I don't know what I did in my past life to deserve this, but I'm _sorry_ , okay?"

"Wes, hey, Wes!" Travis's voice fought through the small gathering of people in the hotel bar. He slowed as he reached it, apparently noticing how Wes was kind of, slouching in his stool, like he had forgotten which way up was and was winging it based on which was gravity was pulling him. Travis shot a worried look at Bill, who looked annoyed at the interruption. "Wes, can I talk to you, man?"

"G'way," Wes said directly into the bar. His breath steamed up the surface and he stared at it, smudging it with one finger.

"Wes, this is really important," Travis said, and he sounded serious. Wes peeled his cheek away enough to notice that Travis was standing in between him and Bill, blocking his line of sight.

"Hey, pal, he said he doesn't want to talk to you, okay?" Bill said, putting a hand on Travis's shoulder.

Travis shook it off and glared at him. "Beat it. I'm his partner, okay?"

"Cop," Wes said inanely. "Cop partner. He means cop partner."

"Yeah," Travis said, then his eyes lit up as if he had realized something. "Yeah!"

He turned more fully to Bill, who looked a little nervous, and Travis leaned in, all wide grin and shiny badge, and Wes could have told Bill that a happy Travis was never a good sign, if he weren't really comfortable right now.

"So why don't you run along now," Travis suggested, except it didn't really sound so much like a suggestion as it did a threat.

Bill's face twisted up, but he grabbed his drink and headed to a corner table, far away from Wes and his new friend, the bar.

"C'mon, Wes," Travis's voice was uncommonly gentle. "Upsa-daisy."

"I hate people who say that," Wes complained.

"You're really still bitching when you're this drunk?" Travis said, and his voice sounded halfway between impressed and disappointed. "You have really got to learn to loosen up."

"I was trying," Wes said, forcing his feet to stumble along vaguely in the direction Travis was hauling him in, "but you interrupted. _Yet again_."

"Yeah," Travis said grimly. "And tomorrow we'll do a review of what consent is and why it is a wonderful, awesome thing."

The room was as neat as ever, and Travis let Wes fall onto the bedspread before bending to take off his shoes. Wes groaned into the bedspread.

"You are going to have a hella headache tomorrow," Travis chuckled, and disappeared into the washroom to get a glass of water to leave on the bedstand.

"Probably," Wes grudgingly agreed. He rolled over, the effort costing him as he lie panting, staring at the ceiling. "Hey, Travis?"

"Yeah?" Travis's voice echoed in the confines of ceramic walls.

"Thanks," Wes said, and for a second, he thought Travis hadn't heard him, but then he heard,

"You're welcome."

Wes nodded to himself and felt himself drifting off to sleep when a thought hit him and he groaned.

"What is it?" Travis asked.

"I'm never going to have a normal date again, am I? You're never going to let this go."

"That, good buddy," Travis said smugly as he tucked the covers in around Wes, "is what cop partners do."


End file.
